Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones
by BromegaMan
Summary: Harry knew that as a wizard he'd face challenges aplenty, but he never knew how hard teenage life could be.


Another time, another place.

It hurt, but not as much as she would have thought. She had expected it to be agonizing; to be the worst thing she had ever felt. It wasn't. Make no mistake, it _was_ painful, a sort of electric throbbing that radiated throughout her body from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. She knew, instinctively, that it would get worse – that there were worse things than pain.

 _Morec thogth havix arrenth og nthath!_ A chorus chanted in deep, ominous unitiy. _Haeren thrus argo nim!_

Katie Bell moaned loudly as she felt her muscles contract and relax without her bidding them to do so. Weird flashing dots flickered in her vision, and she had the peculiar feeling that her thoughts weren't entirely her own. That, in of itself, would have been frightening enough, had it not been for the fact that she had no recollection of how she got to where she was – or what was ultimately going to happen to her. She had been at Hogwarts, that much she remembered. Everything else was a blank. They're going to do something horrible to me, she thought as panic rose in her throat like bile. They're going to kill me. It's some sort of ritual.

 _Jegroth havix arrenth zim_! _Ramdass morir havith nex rezim!_

Katie's breathing rapidly increased and her panic was replaced by sheer terror. She felt _something_ moving in her – coursing through her veins and burrowing through her lymph. She wanted to scream; to _ask_ what they were doing to her, but the words wouldn't form. All of a sudden, every muscle and tendon stiffened, as if she had been struck by _Petrificus Totalus._ Katie silently said her goodbyes and prepared to depart the world.

She didn't die. In a way, that would have been an act of mercy.

What _was_ happening was in many ways worse than death. Her sub dermis had hardened into a chitin –like layer, causing her epidermis to rip and slough away. Katie's fingers elongated into talons – the phalanges piercing through her flesh. She now understood fully that she was _changing._ She glanced plaintively at her hand – at her _new_ exoskeleton.

With great effort, Katie found her voice. "What are you doing to me?" She wailed in a garbled, distorted tone. Her larynx had already been _changed,_ and she could feel her teeth loosening and falling out. She desperately tried not to swallow them, not that it mattered at that point.

The chanting reached a grim climax as the cramping and spasms relented. It was difficult for Katie to marshal her thoughts, and she literally began to forget who and what she had been. Her muggle clothes were in shreds and soaked in ichorus goo.

She no longer cared what she was – or what had been done to her. That, as it turned out, _was_ an act of mercy. Whatever paralysis held her in place on the dais ceased, and the creature that had been Katie Brown, a sixth year at Hogwarts and champion Quidditch player, sat up and removed the last vestments of her humanity willingly.

It was the first such becoming, but hardly the last. The Dark Lord would have his new army, and he would be _pleased._

* * *

" _Chit Allath Jost! Oi Oi Oi!"_ The being formerly known as Tom Riddle intoned.

" _Oi Oi Oi!"_ Repeated his followers in unison. The ritual was going well, and he was pleased.

Five Muggles, three women and two men, were laying arrayed at the points of an enchanted pentagram. In the middle, in the throes of a deep rapture, was Bellatrix Lestrange. Her talon-like, red fingernails tapped out a tattoo as she trembled with excitement. She had been chosen to be the vessel.

"Lograth hec kia voltari amnich!" The Dark Lord pointed his wand skyward and bellowed. Shadows, moving swiftly and with purpose descended on the pentagram. They capered and swept among the prone offerings, seemingly sniffing – _tasting –_ the fragile humans. One of the women, a business lady with a bob haircut and smart looking pantsuit, panicked and screamed. This was a mistake.

A grave mistake.

All of the wraithlike forms fell upon her with a ferocity that no living being, human or magical, could imagine. They enveloped her, and she writhed and screamed as though on fire. Mere heartbeats later, they returned to their air-dance, leaving behind a form unspeakable in its appearance. The nearest thing a mortal could compare it to would be a living, enchanted skeleton. All of the professional woman's clothing, skin, flesh and gore had been removed, leaving a moving, thinking articulated skeleton in its place. The being shrieked in response to what had been the ultimate violation. Her humanity had been stripped as neatly and as quickly as a maid would have stripped a hotel bed. The other four offerings saw, and they too screamed.

Their fate was the same.

Bellatrix continued to moan and wriggle on the ground, her body moistened with anticipation. She might have felt fear as well, but there were deeper things dwelling within her mind and already corrupted heart. _Her_ Lord had bid her to offer her body – her humanity – as a sacrifice to the cause. How could she possibly refuse?

She couldn't and she didn't.

The articulated skeletons stood and shambled away from the pentagram, leaving Bellatrix in the grip of cosmic exstacy. She whimpered and gibbered to herself as if thousands of hands from beyond the veil caressed her. She was ready for whatever Lord Voldemort's erstwhile guest had in mind.

Or so she thought.

"Haerach kabballaba jux major shakira!" Voldemort roared as the wraiths circling above coalesced into one form – something akin to a giant manta ray.

"Oi Oi Oi Oi!" Bellatrix moaned as she steeled herself for whatever the specter had in mind. The apparition swooped in low and hovered above the prone witch for several moments.

"I offer my flesh. I offer my mind. I offer my ichor. I offer my soul." Bellatrix intoned in a breathless voice. By now, fear had creeped up upon her. Her heart raced as the shadow lowered further and entwined itself with her.

Bellatrix began to scream and sob. Her hysterics lasted for the better part of half an hour before the being completed _rebuilding_ her in its own image. Eventually the screaming gave way to deep, masculine laughter. A guttural sound from beyond space and time. All that remained of Bellatrix was a few clumps of hair, torn clothing, and two broken fingernails.

The daughter of Cygnus III and Druella was gone.

She had become so much more – and its countenance was hideous.

"Welcome my friend," Voldemort said in his most refined voice. He gave a half bow as a sign of respect. "We have made offering for you!"

"It is well." The unspeakable form stated flatly. "More will be required."

"The world is your banquet, my friend."

"Her." The form pointed at a pale, ill-looking Narcissa Malfoy. "Have her prepared for the Grix Ngloth Ceremony in one fortnight."

"Of course, my friend."

"It is well."

Narcissa screamed and then swooned.

* * *

The wind howled and the rain stung as Fenrir Greyback and his entourage walked sexily towards the Malfoy residence. Lord Voldemort had called him and he came. There was news, and he wanted to hear it with his own ears. Specifically, the war was about to start.

He wanted in.

The front gate opened magically, swinging like a hangman in a stiff breeze. His was to the wind and all of his senses were clean. His fellow werewolves flanked him like pins in a hellish, sexy tenpin alley. Their massive shoulders heaved as they walked up the walk towards the main entrance. The main entrance was guarded by armor wearing skeletons holding guns instead of the usual lower caste Death Eaters. That was odd Fenrir thought. It didn't matter through.

He wanted in.

Fenrir and his pack past Lucius sitting propped in the corner. His blonde head was in his hands, his blonde hair cascading messily. Fenrir smelled fear and sorrow on him. He liked it. Lucius was a prig of the first water, and the wolves disliked him. Ten more armored skeletons stood in the hall leading up to the conference room. This was strange, too. Fenrir stomped mightily passed without looking into their empty sockets.

He wanted in.

The room was different from the last time Fenrir had been there. The table was gone, as was all of the posh furniture that had been in there. On the floor were runes from a time beyond thought and depictions of creatures straight out of madness. The mighty hero's keen wolf eyes noticed that all of the other death eaters were in attendance, including Severus Snape. All of them stood upright and noble in their robes. He didn't see or smell Bellatrix Lestrange, though. At the far end of the chamber, not too far from the fireplace, were two thrones. Voldemort sat in one, and a horror he couldn't truly comprehend occupied the other like a boss. They would tell them their plans.

He wanted in.

"This is Fenrir Greyback, my friend." Voldemort loudly whispered to the fiend.

"Ah!" The fiend replied and its face tentacles dangled like pendulums of a clock long broken. Its eyes flickered with color from out of space. "It is well."

Fenrir puffed out his hairy, rippled chest and planted his hands on his hips. His pack did the same. Only then, did he notice Narcissa sitting on a poof behind the monstrosity's throne. She was wearing little and looked horrified and hot. Her eyes were vacant and she smelled of unspeakable terror. Fenrir was pleased.

He wanted in.

"Have the offering drink her draught!" The shadowy form in the throne bellowed.

"Snape." Voldemort said.

" **IMBIBIMENTI!"** From the crowd of death eaters a beam flashed and a chalice appeared.

"Oh, no!" Cried Narcissa. "Must I?"

"Ah!"

With shaking hands, the witch took the cup and downed the brew. When she finished, she dropped the chalice and clutched her head and moaned loudly.

"Now now," Voldemort sneered. "We must prepare for the ritual!"

"Kill me, please."

"Ho!" Laughed the creature and the Death Eaters.

"It is well!"

Voldemort turned to talk to the wolves. He told them their role and they were pleased. As a gift offering, they brought out several muggles for them to savage.

They were in.


End file.
